Broken Wings
by Mexagainstxthexworld
Summary: Castiel Novak knew three things for certain. Number one- Sioux falls was his definition of hell. Number Two - He was gay. Number Three- Dean Winchester was nothing but trouble.
1. chapter 1

"Today, I would like to talk about responsibility for our actions. "

Castiel Novak sighed quietly, his bowed head turned away from the roaming eyes of Mr.Ford. His pencil stroked against the paper, the shades of grey rising and falling as he applied pressure.

Responsibility was a lecture Cass had heard more times than he could count. Though, through the course of detention was a new method for him.

He wasn't alone. There was four others among him, All placed along the front row of the classroom.All paying just as much attention as he was.

His eyes jumped up to the clock, inwardly groaning as the hands stayed firmly where they were. There was no speeding it up. No opt out button.

He had to suffer with the rest of the delinquents that attended Sioux fall high. Not that Cass had any intentions of associating with any of them.

He was already going to be in lot trouble when his father found out. He doubted his father would stop to take the time to listen to his excuse of it not being his fault.

He never had had time for excuses.

The only way to make up for it would be to keep his nose clean.

Which in a high school full of Jerks and bullies, It was a lot easier said than done.

"In fact, I think we should start by owning up and accepting the reasons why you are all here in the first place. Asa, would you care to start?"

Castiel paused, lifting his gaze from his drawing, head turning to the right.

Until then, Cass didn't know any of the names of the other boys in the detention room.

"Cuz Parkeron has a stick up his arse,"

Asa, the boy who spoke, Reminded Cass of the little Chucky boy from the rugrats show he used to watch as a child. His long strands of orange hair were wild,having strayed from the bobble used to pin the majority to the back of his head.

He looked as bored as the rest of the boys, sprawled half over his desk, chewed up pencil wedged inbetween his top and bottom teeth. The brown of his eyes only landed on Mr. Ford for a moment before they dropped back down to the penis he was carving into the top of the table top with a compass.

"That's not really accepting responsibility though, Mr.Piers, Is it?"

"It wasn't my fault," Asa shrugged, voice deprived of any emotion,as though he had already been there and done it a thousand times.

"You wouldn't be here if it wasn't your fault. "

Ford sighed under the blank look he got, shaking his head as he muttered something under his breath. He reached up, straightening the tie around his neck to the point that his double chin looked in danger of exploding, before clearing his throat. His washed out blue eyes scanned the row of boys in front of his,a wrinkly frown burrowing in the creases of his bulldog like face as he chose a victim.

""Winchester,"He barked at last , his pudgy finger pointing to the guy on Cass's far left. Mr. Ford leaned back, tiny smile coming across his face as he propped his large bottom onto the corner of the desk, folding his arms over his chest.

Cass changed the direction of his head, his eyes, like the others, Drawn to the boy who was now the centre of attention.

Cass didn't know his name, but he had saw him around.

Menacing would have been an understatement for the guy. He screamed down and out dangerous.

He wore a sneer like armour, marring the handsome edge to his still maturing face. The soft edges to it were concealed by the harsh glare, green eyes venomous as they briefly locked with Cass's.

"What?" The boy spat, his voice rough and deep, croaky note laced in it.

Cass found himself momentarily fascinated. The boy in the leather jacket made bad look good. He made it look effortlessly.

In fact, one glance at the kid and Cass was convinced that the boy wasn't pulling a bad boy gig. He was genuine trouble. It was written all over him. From the way he carried himself, to the way his eyes met the teachers head on, unflinching under the look. Challenging him,even.

"Why are you here, Dean?" Ford said. There was a tiredness to him that Cass hadn't noticed until then. But as he ran his hand through his thinning grey hair, his own eyes darting up to the clock on the far side of the room, Cass realized that he probably didn't want to be there any more than they did.

"Well, I just thought it was because you love my company," The boy, Dean, Drawled out. It earnt him a few snickers.

Cass didn't laugh. Ford didn't, either. His eye twitched before his soft smile was back. "Sadly, No. That's not the case. The reason you're here, Dean?"

"Because smoking is wrong," Dean mocked in a monotone impression. His eyes remained on Fords,cold and flat as he stared him out.

"And the lesson of that is?"Ford pressed, Not showing any sort of response to the teenagers intimidation act.

"Smoke in bathrooms that don't have smoke detectors?"

"It's bad for your health," Ford said with a surprising amount of gentleness to his tone. "It can cause cancer and all sorts of other problems. "

""That's a risk I'm willing to take," Dean said flatly, rocking back in his plastic chair until it was balancing on the back two legs.

"Honestly," Ford sighed with a shake of his head. "Teenagers. Think they know everything."

For a moment, Silence fell before he took a haggered breath, shifting his weight with a small hitch. "Novak, Why are you here?"

Cass froze as all eyes turned on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out. He swallowed nervously, his eyes lifting up to meet the gaze of the tutor.

"It's only your second week here, is it not? Not exactly the best of starts. "

"I made a mistake,"Cass said quietly at last. He knew from experience that it didn't matter how many times you pleaded that it wasn't your fault, it was only ever seen as an excuse. And adults hated excuses. "Was in the wrong place at the wrong time. "

"What happened?" Ford pressed,almost an edge of genuine curiosity crossing his face as he pulled the straining folds of his suit jacket closer around himself.

"The fire alarm was pulled," Cass muttered. "I was there when they came to see what was happening. "

It went deeper than being a wrong place at the wrong time but you didn't point that out. It only made them angry when you pointed out the obvious.

"Did you pull it?"

Cass didn't answer. His silence stretched out, causing Ford to sigh. Dropping his head,Cass turned back to the sketch on the paper.

He hadn't really been aware of what he had been drawing until then- but as he studied the detailed drawing, he couldn't help but find it fitting.

Broken wings. They were long and arced, covered in feathers.

But the wide spread wings were bent, twisted into a mangled mess and the feathers were falling.

Wings that were just not made to fly.

Like Cass, they were destined to stay where they lay, no means of escape.

Ford tried again, his tactic falling on deaf ears as not one of the boys in the class responded as he wanted. In the end,he began to preach,his words zoned out, even by Cass as he began to sketch the small,crumpled form of a body between the spread of the two wings on his page.

Detention wasn't as bad as Cass had first thought. Listening to Mr.Ford for 45 minutes was a lot better than the harsh stories he had heard from the other kids. That being said, Mr.Ford was actually a pretty nice man. Cass had him for English and he wasn't as harsh or as arrogant as some of the other teachers he was subjected to.

It was almost five by the time they were finished. The others wasted no time making a break for the door.

Cass was the only one who took his time, slowly folding his sketchpad back into shape and putting it carefully into his rucksack.

His father would be home from work by the time he got home.

It was not something he was looking forward to.

He has missed his lift home but Cass didn't mind the walk. It should have only took 15 minutes from the school to reach Bishop street where his family had recently moved to, but with the snail pace Cass had set it ended up being closer to thirty before he ended up outside the rickety little wooden gate that led to his house.

Forcing back a deep breath, wrapping his long, tan coat closer around his body, Cass unhooked the gate with trembling hands.

"Here goes nothing,"he muttered to himself.


	2. Two

A silent sob fell from his lips, his face twisted into a mask of pain.

He heard the rushing of air, the clink of metal before a fresh wave of pain rained down on his back.

The tears rolled from his eyes but Cass knew better than to scream. His hands curled into balls, the rough fibres of the carpet digging into his knuckles.

Another rush of air. Another wave of pain.

Cass couldn't hold in the gasp of pain. The tears were rolling down his face . His teeth were dug firm into his bottom lip,the metallic taste of blood spilling over his tongue.

His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, thumping painfully against his ribs.

"To bed," He heard his father growl at last, The metal clinking telling him that the lashes were over. Cass lifted his head, watching through red eyes as his father relooped the belt through the loops of his trousers.

Cass knew the gig. He gave a small nod, muttering a weak "Yes, Sir," as he pushed himself up from his hands and knees, grabbing his shirt up that had been threw down next to him.

"There will be more," His father warned, "A lot more, If you don't hurry up and learn your lesson."

"Yes, Sir," Cass whispered again, his legs jelly like,barely supporting him as he tried to control the tremor in his voice.

Under his father's harsh stare, Cass limped to the stairs, his back alight with the burn of Hell's fire. He climbed them slowly, the tears falling to the wooden steps,leaving the shame that bowed his head.

Cass was all to familiar with the routine.

He had been the subject of his fathers disciplinary acts more times than he could count. The scars on his back... Well,Cass no longer knew how old the first one was.

He knew his father wasn't doing it to be cruel. It wasn't something he enjoyed. It was just what Cass deserved.

His brothers managed to behave. Managed to please him on a day to day basis.

Cass never really managed.

His mother had always called him her curious little kitten. She had said he was always so full of questions.

His father hated questions.

In a way,the irony was fitting.

Curiosity really did kill the cat.

But he tried. He tried to mind his tongue around his father. He really did. In fact,he had been getting so much better at biting his tongue.

Today had just ruined his clean streak.

As Cass entered the room he shared with his Elder brother Michael, no visible line dividing it , but half and half separated, Cass flopped face down on his pillow, ignoring his brother who lifted his head from the book he was studying on his bed, letting the fabric absorb the eye juice. His composure shattered and the silenced cries he had held back became soft whimpers.

"Jesus, Cassie," A hand was placed on his shoulder and his body weight shifted as the bed dipped. "You need to try harder. You need to stop making him mad. "

"It wasn't my fault,"He sniffled, turning his tear stained face towards the only person who he knew would ever accept his excuses.

"Sure it isn't," Michael sighed,Looking so like their father with his light hair and strong features. The opposite of Cass. "But you need to try harder. "

"I will,"Cass whispered, tilting his head into his brothers form, absorbing the fleeting form of comfort it offered. It didn't last long. Michael moved, making his way over to the joining bathroom that connected to their room with a sigh.

"Keep still and stay quiet," was all he said when he came back.

Cass knew this part as well.

The part where his brother would clean the wounds made from the buckle cutting to deep into his flesh. He bit the pillow, letting his teeth grip the fabric hard as the throbbing pain only increased.

The room was plunged in darkness when Cass awoke, the faint glow from the fish tank being the only source of light in the room.

His body was sore, hissing as he carelessly moved. His eyes were stiff, feeling as though they were about to crack as he blinked. As he forced his gangly limbs from the bed, sighing as his numb feet flooded with pins and needles, he shuffled over to the bathroom, sparing only a fleeting glance at his brother who had wrapped himself up in his blankets, flat on his back like he was impersonating a mummy.

Cass let the bathroom door click shut behind him before he yanked the light cord. His eyes disproved of the sudden assault but after blinking it out, they got over it. Shifting over to the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain basin in his hands, Cass glared at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked a lot like his mother,a reminder he hated every time he caught sight of himself. He had her dark, thick hair that never seemed to do as it was told, waving over the top of his head in its own little manner. He had her eyes, too. Blue. So blue. But not the same kind of blue.

His mothers had always been so bright and alive. Just looking into them was enough to make him feel the same joy that glittered in their depths .

Cass's was nothing like that. They had no depth to them. None that he could see, anyway. They twinkled- in the right light- but it was never really from emotion like hers was.

With a sigh, Cass twirled the tap, cupping the sudden downpour of water in his joined hands and splashing it against the pale, clammy skin of his cheeks. It woke him up, the cold shock jolting him into a slightly more alert state.

Cass didn't bother showering. The sound would only wake Michael up, his father too when the boiler went into a frenzy. Perks of moving into an ancient house. Every little thing was guaranteed to make one hell of a lot of noise.

Tip toeing back into the room, Cass dressed quickly. The school uniform was nothing fancy. Trousers and a button up and the option of a sweatshirt or blazer. Cass had been given the sweatshirt. A loose fitted, lumpy pile of fabric that hung from his frame. In his opinion, the bright red of it didn't suit him.

But his opinion was irrelevant. His shoes were shoved on,a splash of polish going over before he did up his tie. Most of his books were in his bag. Rarely did he bother emptying it. He just shoved the ones he didn't need that day in his locker and took home the ones he had to do homework in.

It wasn't as organized as Michaels routine, all stacked and ordered on his desk every night, but it worked for Cass.

The clock on the bedside table flashed with bright green numbers ,6:47 showing up. It was too early for school. The gates didn't open until 7:30. But he knew come 7 o clock Michael's alarm would sound and his brothers and father would wake.

He didn't feel like sticking around for family breakfast. He knew his father would go out of his way to ridicule him as an example to his brothers.

He just didn't need that this morning.

After sliding his arms into the sleeves of the long,tan trench coat, Cass shouldered his bag, opening the bedroom door and creeping down the stairs as quietly as he could.

He let himself out, ducking his head as the cold morning breeze jumped up to smack him in the face. The sky was still dark,the lamp posts still buzzing with their artificial glow.

Cass walked under them slowly, sliding his bag around on his shoulder and unzipping the front pouch where he usually kept his wallet.

He was by no means rich, but he was sure as hell hard working. Before they had moved, Cass had mowed lawns and baby sat and dog walked every weekend he could, pinching together any spare change he could.

It wasn't enough to buy the car he had been dreaming of, but with what he had left, it was enough to buy himself breakfast.

There was a cute little cafe a block over from him, a family run business that actually made half decent food. Cass has paid a few early morning visits there in the short time he had been there and each time, he had not been disappointed.

His feet knew the way, shoes clicking against the hard ground. His footsteps sounded so loud in the quiet morning air,little to no traffic yet.

It was the time Cass liked it best.

He found it beautiful. There was a beauty to the world. The world was just too asleep to see it.

With a small smile,Cass pushed open the door of the restaurant, gentle jingle of the bell sounding out. The warmth hit him first, cloaking around him like the warm hug he desperately needed, followed by the mouth watering scent of cooking food.

It was all but empty, bar the serious composed male in the far corner, nose tucked into the folds of his newspaper,and a figure in a green coat, half sprawled on top of the table, arms wrapped over his head, obscuring the identity from Cass.

"What can I get you, Love?" The lady behind the counter yawned, A small smile crossing her face as she stretched. She was pretty, Pretty in a way that had the boys looking. But it didn't seem to matter how pretty she was. She wasn't the object of Cass's perverted imagination.

"Pancakes, Please,"Cass said, his voice low and soft, his tongue flicking over his lips in anticipation," And a coffee."

"Sure thing," The lady smiled. "You just take a seat. Your order will be out in no time. "

After thanking her,Cass found himself a seat, wincing as he eased himself down into the hardened plastic. He chose a seat by the window, leaning back as his eyes studied the sky outside,watching as it gradually began to lighten.

Cass didn't realize that he had zoned out until the scraping of the chair opposite him snapped him to reality.

The figure in the green coat was no longer sprawled over the table top. He was sitting opposite Cass. His deep green eyes pierced into Cass's, his face screwed up into a mask of Concentration.

""You were in detention yesterday. "

Cass swallowed hard as he gazed into the face of the boy that was the subject of Cass's perverted imagination.

Dean Winchester


End file.
